


unsteady

by Angsty_Dorito



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Child Abuse, Depressing, Depression, Drug Use, Dubious Consent, Happy Ending, i promise it ends happily aha, it did a little, it might be intense, lmao bc my therapist thinks writing this all will help me feel better, read carefully, therapy work, vent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:48:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26132926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angsty_Dorito/pseuds/Angsty_Dorito
Summary: my therapist said venting out my problems somewhere would help and it kinda did, so here we go.it can be intense, so please be careful if you do read it.i promise, it ends happily though.
Kudos: 1





	unsteady

**Author's Note:**

> be aware that it can be triggering  
> talks of s/h and su//de  
> // lucky is a fake name aha //

It started when it was just two weeks a fetus. their mother found out she was pregnant! Awesome right? She didn't think so. Throughout her pregnancy she could build up a resentment for the child, for not having enough money to be rid of it. Months later, October 3rd, Lucky was born. To be born to a mother building up a hatred for you for nine months though, is not ideal. From the moment Lucky was born, his life would be very unlucky. His childhood consisted of barely being fed to keep skinny. She didn't want a fat kid, made sure to only feed him the bare minimum she could to keep him alive.

Lucky didnt feel alive though. He was so malnourished and underweight, but everyone just pegged it down to him being an active kid with a fast metabolism. He was always sick in some way, and they would be horrible. A common cold would easily become a life threatening fever. A simple flu could kill him if it was just a little worse. Lucky was never taken to a doctor, though. Because that costs money, and his mother would not spend more then she absolutely had to for him. He grew up hungry, alone, and sick.   
6th grade, at just 80 pounds, the weird kid with no one to talk to, Lucky had enough. His mother had sharp knives, he had a plan. That plan would happen to be ruined by his mother, she was angry he dirtied her good knives. He would cry himself to sleep that night. He did get to go to a therapist though, but he was shady, and always agreeing with his mother. She would disregard anything he said and instead tell him to just listen to her, because mother knows best. He felt worse.

They moved to america soon after that, having been in France. Lucky, his mother, and his aunt. Things got worse there. Verbal insults and starving wasn't enough. Bruises were the solution. At 13 years old, while everyones biggest problem was school, Lucky's biggest problem, was hiding the bruises. The ones on his wrists and arms, all over his chest and back, even his legs and neck, weren't left unmarked by her hands, or anything she had. No matter what his mother picked up, a rock, a butter knife, a shirt, she didn't care. No one did, and Lucky felt worse then ever. At 13 years old, 70 pounds, he tried drugs for the first time. 

His mothers words continued to get harsher. He couldnt eat anything without his mother being angry and convincing him food is bad. Fat, is bad. Lucky was scared to eat, because she always seemed to find out. She constantly weighed him, and no matter if his weight went down or up, she was always disappointed in him. He never tried hard enough. He was a failure.

Lucky got kicked out, had to move in with his aunt. Thing started okay, but he was overly cautious for a while. Once he felt comfortable, well, sisters are very alike. one difference though, was that his aunt absolutely loved to lock him into rooms. Whether it be his own room, the bathroom, the closet, Lucky always had to worry about getting stuck in there. When he did get stuck, he could be left there for a couple minutes to a few hours, so he stayed in his room for the most part. At 14 years old, 80 pounds, he was always alone.

He lived 3 years in that house. During that time, he met a boy named Carson. This boy was amazing. He took Lucky out, he bought him gifts, and he offered his own house for Lucky to be safe. What a joke that would be. See, Carson only wanted to be with Lucky for his body. To have someone he could push around and fuck. Lucky was reluctant, he wanted to wait longer, before he gave himself up, even if that apparently made him a loser. Carson was angry. He was pressured to smoke weed and do acid. Lucky wasn't a virgin anymore after that. At 15 years old, 85 pounds, he wasn't a loser anymore. 

Lucky would stay with him though, for two years. and during that two years, he would be turned into a shell of himself. He learned that he was only useful for his body. The bruises would continue, but not abuse no, Carson assured him it was out of love. He wouldnt lie, right? At 16 years old, 85 pounds, he knew this is what relationships are supposed to be like.

Lucky finally realised how bad this was, and left him, but the pain didnt stop. If anything, it got worse. He moved back with his aunt. Overtime things got so bad he made another plan. He had his own knife this time, one his grandmother gave him for protection. She would be upset it was used for this purpose, but he wouldnt be here to feel her dissapointment. At 17 years old, 90 pounds, he was ready to die.

He got a notification. "Youve been added to a groupchat." It was from Instagram. Curious, he opened it. there was a couple people in there talking, he was confused, but they seemed nice. He stayed for a couple minutes, to feel laughter one last time.

Heres where his story starts to get lucky. Things start to look up in life for our unlucky character.

There was one person in the chat who caught his attention, and they talked all the time. Eventually it moved into private DM's. He had never felt this happy before, he fell in love. Soon, she did too. That night, this person unintentionally saved his life. At 17 years old, still 90 pounds, he had found something to live for.

Life still has its ups and downs, its relapses that make it seem like nothing is worth it. He is trying though. Working hard to seperate his mothers harsh words from his mind so he can get healthy and live with the happiness he has discovered. 

At 18 years old, 109 pounds, but working on it. He has found a reason to stay alive. Good for him, right?


End file.
